


'invalid' is a subjective term

by shiningjedi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, child endangerment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-11 14:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11150295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiningjedi/pseuds/shiningjedi
Summary: Two injured, exausted, kidnapped Jedi dads.Two skilled, caring, determined Jedi daughters.Three guesses what the plotline is.





	1. Prologue

“Wolffe, stay back!” shouted Plo, skin stinging from the harsh, super-oxygenated air of the droid ship, pumped in specifically to subdue him; he was still tugging against the crushing vice-grip of the two magnaguards holding him, but had given up escaping at the present. Even if he made it off the boarding ramp, his cruiser, the _Trustworthy_ , would not be much of a refuge from Grievous’ deadly pets.

“General!” screamed Wolffe, in agonised, grudging recognition of his orders; he raised his double blasters and fired indiscriminately into the scuttling mass of Separatist battle droids, but the magnaguards’ ship was already un-docking and the _Trustworthy_ was too damaged from the battle to attempt even an engine-powered chase, let alone to activate its hyperdrive in pursuit. Sinker, next to him, removed his helmet and spat bitterly on the durasteel deck, kicking at the head of a deactivated B1 unit.

 

Unbeknownst to the ’Pack, two hundred and seventeen systems over precisely, Ponds and General Windu’s men were dealing with an eerily similar, tailor-made kidnapping of their own General – but with fewer magnaguards and an additional, terrifyingly skilled, cyborg warrior to make up for their absence.

Also unbeknownst to almost all parties involved, twenty-four systems in another direction from the _Trustworthy_ , General Depa Billaba suddenly winced and put a hand to her temple in pain, causing Commander Grey to startle in alarm during a briefing, and back at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant Padawan Ahsoka Tano jumped abruptly from her seat with no idea why.

 

General Grievous, meanwhile, was basking in the glory of having successfully abducted not one, but two senior Jedi High Councillors.

Even if the Republic wouldn’t pay for their return, he was going to have more than a little fun watching them suffer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. Took. So. Long.
> 
> I'm really sorry!

Force, Plo _hurt._

His leg stung from where a blaster bolt had grazed him, ripping through and scorching his tunics; his head was pounding and making it hard to focus on anything, whether in his thoughts or vision; and the entirety of his skin still ached from the high concentration of oxygen that his captors had pumped into the cell that he’d been thrown into on the ship.

A Separatist ship.

He was a prisoner of the Separatist Confederacy.

But was he still on the ship, or had he been moved to another location while he was unconscious? It was was still tar-black, and he was still slumped against a wall, but he didn’t remember there being any life-forms on the battleship, just droids of assorted models (and, of course, levels of lethality), and he was certain that he could sense an organic being near him right now, if he could only just –

 _Oh_ , his head was painful.

He brought his hands up to his crown, detachedly noting and analysing the unusual and concerning amount of effort that it took to do so, and cradled it in his palms, wishing very much that he was an oxygen-breather, and could thus take off his mask and vomit without condemning himself to a sure and painful death.

But no, that wouldn’t be a very wise action in this circumstance, would it? He had no way of knowing when, if ever, he was next going to receive sustenance, so there would have been no purpose to wasting perfectly good enablers of energy and physical healing.

The life-form near him stirred and coughed raspingly, then managed to gasp out “Plo?,” with a croaking and damningly familiar voice.

“Ma-”

His own voice burned and rattled in his throat as well, and he instead resorted to telepathy, suddenly grateful for his species’ natural gift.

_Mace? So the Separatists have captured you too._

“That app-”

Another fit of coughing, and the rustling of fabric that indicated his friend doubling over from the hacks. “That appears to be the case.

” He really sounded terrible, although the sarcasm was a little reassuring – if he had the strength for his usual caustic humour, then that was a good sign. _How … how badly are you hurt?_

“I’m not -” This time Plo heard him actually falling hands-first onto the bitingly cold floor. “-certain. What about you?”

_I’ve been better, certainly, but you seem … to be the worse off between the two of us._

“I don’t deny it.” This time he managed not to cough.

 _I can try and … and get across the room to you_.

“Uh-Understood.” He audibly stifled another series of hacks.

 

–

 

Grievous watched the Kel Dor slowly begin to crawl towards the human on one of the high-res night-vision monitors of his lair, and switched it off with a disgusted snort.

High Councillors indeed! They were pathetic! Indeed, they were already cracking around the edges like the miserable, overrated buffoons that they were. It seemed he was going to get little fun out of them, after all, which was disappointing.

But the rest of the Jedi Council – that was another matter entirely. With a throaty chuckle, he began to punch orders into a battered datapad, durasteel fingers moving faster than an organic eye could follow.

 

–

 

Depa felt sick.

Mace and Plo had both been captured.

By General Grievous.

And the holo he had shown the Council…..

Plo’s skin had been mottled with a criss-cross of worryingly darker veins – they were blue like the rest of him, of course, it was a holo – and there had been a blaster burn on his lower leg; Mace had looked pale as well, and there had been a scorched line of burn-mark from the top of his scalp down to his brow. In addition, in the few-seconds length of the replaying loop, he had seemed to cough heavily, his entire body shaking with each movement.

And, of course, there was how incredibly, terrifyingly weak they had both appeared to be – even Plo, who had looked in marginally better health, had seemed barely even able to move.

And if Grievous’ word was to be trusted – which, obviously, they all knew it wasn’t – he hadn’t even begun to torture them yet. This was just the condition that they had been brought to him in.

At least half of the remaining council had looked as if they were trying not to vomit, and Yoda looked as if he were seriously considering passing out if he didn’t sit down in the next few seconds; Obi-wan quickly knelt and guided him down to a seat on the tiled stone floor. (She envied him, as it was something concrete and and certain of helping that he could do.)

The faded mosaic under his feet was that of a Vornskr, which struck her as oddly appropriate; they were a vicious, predatory species, dangerous for treating every force-sensitive as a piece of prey – and also the original namesake of Vapaad.

 

–

 

“Forbid you from going to retrieve them, we will not, Depa,” said Yoda eventually, glancing quickly up at Obi-wan as if for reassurance that he was taking the right path, “but strongly advise you to remain at the Temple, we do nevertheless.”

She visibly hesitated, closing her eyes – Obi-wan suspected she was asking her ancestors for guidance, as was Chalactan tradition – then rose from her seat, turning back as she reached the end of the circle of chairs to bow deeply to her friends and mentors.

“Thank you, Masters,” she said quietly, and left.

 

“Make that three new High Councillors to elect,” said Ki-adi-mundi sadly, as soon as the door slid shut behind her.

As he bowed his head in unspoken half-prayer with the others, Obi-wan noted silently that he had never seen Master Yoda look quite so weary, nor anything even approaching as frail.

The Jedi Order was teetering on the brink of collapse.

 

–

 

“Master Billaba!” called Ahsoka, running to catch up with her as she off in the direction of the Temple transports.

The older woman ignored her, continuing to serenely walk in the opposite direction. _That’s got to be a mask_ , she thought desperately, _there’s no way that she is actually this calm and and at peace_.

“It’s too dangerous,” said Master Billaba, not even turning her head to look at her. “You’re a Padawan, Ahsoka, not a Master.”

“I know,” she replied, forcing herself to remain outwardly calm and take deep breaths, “but I’m a Padawan who was brought into the Order by Master Plo, just like you were by Master Windu, and I care about him, just like you do.”

Billaba slowed her pace, just for a moment, and she continued her argument, pressing her harder. “And I’m pretty sure that that’s the reason you think that you can rescue him, not just because you’re a High Councillor.”

She sighed, light glinting off her Marks Of Illumination in the shade of the Hangar Bay as she finally stopped and turned to face her. “Ahsoka, you know full well that I cannot permit you to come with me.”

“You can permit it, Master! I’ve done the research, and you’re allowed to.”

Her dark eyes blinked once, twice, then looked down towards the duracrete floorblocks as she spoke in little more than a murmur: “I had hoped to spare you this mission.”

“So that means you’ll let me come?”

Ahsoka could have sworn that Billaba had almost chuckled, but her face was back to ‘solemn’ so quickly that it was difficult to be certain. “Yes, I will, although Mace would have my neck for allowing a child along.”

Despite the sudden, wild relief that coursed through her, Ahsoka picked up on the hypothetical phrasing; she frowned to herself but said nothing except, in her best petulant tone, “I’m fifteen, Master, not a child.”

Billaba simply rolled her eyes and gestured towards their waiting transport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments heat my reptilian blood enough to give me energy to write new chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka reflects on the mission while in transit; Depa does too, but doesn't voice her thoughts; Plo and Mace' health is getting worse down in their prison, but one of them realises that help is on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the wait!

The Jedi transport was small and worn-out – the Republic could afford no better these days, since the war had started – but it suited its intended purpose of rapid, discreet transportation well enough, Ahsoka supposed.

It was too old to be equipped for tandem service with modern astromechs – a pity, she reckoned, trying to distract herself from the imminent mission as much as possible – she liked working with the little droids, especially Artoo, who was currently off fighting with Anakin and Rex somewhere over Glee Anselm.

She hadn’t been keen on being left behind, but Anakin had told her she’d needed a few weeks to focus on her studies.

 _So much for that idea, huh?_ When he got back, he was either going to be really proud or really pissed off. Or maybe both, knowing him.

Probably both, knowing him.

She glanced over at Master Billaba, cross-legged on the floor just a few feet from her chair, back stretched gracefully and eyes closed in meditation.

She hadn’t spoken a word since she’d set the navicomputer three hours ago, let alone a humorous one, and according to Master Obi-wan, she usually teased people fairly often – or him, at least, she thought to herself with a grin; her grandmaster’s by-the-book ways and eccentric habits made him an easy enough target for friendly jokes that he might as well have had a fluroid shaakseye stencilled on the back of his outer tunic, at least when around his fellow Jedi.

Nevertheless, the fact remained that she had been keeping all too quiet, at least for the comfort of Ahsoka, who felt most at home with at least a little chatter in the background. _Maybe she’s just an introvert_ , she supposed, but a moment before she was about to try and start meditating herself, the navicomputer beeped; Billaba unfolded herself from the ground and joined her at the console.

“We’re approaching the destination,” she said briefly, stating the obvious, and then, continuing the trend for good measure, “we must now be extremely cautious.”

Ahsoka would have rolled her eyes, but but there were a series of shivers running unbidden and unwanted down her spine and through her limbs, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

It was … _cold_ , it was _freezing_ , but the ship’s climate controls had been in perfect working order.

It couldn’t be the dark side, right? Grievous wasn’t a Sensitive, as far as she was aware, and unless… no, she was stupid to be scared of that.

Master Plo could never have fallen, and Master Windu’s lightsaber was purple for a reason – he had _conquered_ his own darkness already.

She shivered again just as Billaba spoke once more, voice as taut and strained as she was feeling herself.

“Despair. This place is thick with it.”

And just like that, she fell silent again; Ahsoka glanced up at her quickly in mingled concern and trepidation, then hastily away again as she noticed her looking.

“There is no need to fear my offence,” she murmured, her voice softer and quieter but still marked with a minuscule crack that human ears, perhaps, would not have registered.  Ahsoka felt for her.

“We’ll find them, Master,” she said firmly, voice coming out younger and higher-pitched than she’d intended, and Billaba almost smiled.

“I am certain that we will, young one.”

 

It was what would happen after that that was worrying them both.

 

–

 

 _Mace_ , transmitted Plo desperately, raising himself up on his forearms to try and shake his friend, _you need to wake up._

He fell forward against the hard, damp floor as a reward for his efforts, and coughed once into his sleeve, grunting out, out loud, “Please… they’re _coming._ ”

Mace made a slight sound, unmoving, then started coughing as well, phlegm gathering up in his throat and choking him even more; plo stretched out a hand weakly to grasp his shoulder with his talons.

“Little ‘Soka…. and … and Depa.”

Mace still didn’t wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had quite a bit of fun writing this chapter; I got it done in thirty minutes, would you believe?!
> 
> Yes, you would, I know. Short chapters are my speciality.
> 
> Reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls get going!  
> And nearly killed, of course. Would it really be Star Wars without that?

Ahsoka, who had barely taken time to pack before running to catch up with Master Billaba, grimaced as she realised that she’d taken her old robe, not her current one. Normally a few bleached and fraying threads wouldn’t be an issue, but she had _grown_ …

She slipped her arms into the sleeves, and then the hood over her montrals. It was a little tight, but not restrictedly so – for perhaps the first time in her life, she thanked the Force for the baggy, traditionalist Jedi ‘style’.

She patted her lightsabers and made sure energy capsules had been tucked into her belt, along with a comlink and a few other … _accessories_ , then turned to Billaba.

She was just throwing her own, much less weatherstained, cloak over her shoulders, and met eyes with Ahsoka, nodded once, and wrapped it tightly around herself, sleeve brushing against her lightsaber a lot more subtly than Ahsoka.

“Ahsoka,” she warned, and she removed her hand from the button that would release the ramp, trying not to make a face. The ‘be careful, young one’ talk _now_ , when Masters Plo and Windu were dying?!

“Yes, Master?”

“Whatever you might see, whatever might happen, I want you to be very careful not to lose control, and I want you to stay with me.”

Her nose wrinkled, and then her eyes narrowed into a hunter’s steady determination. “Stick next to you, and don’t freak out and start screaming. Got it.” Billaba made a gesture, and her fingers hit the button. For a moment, Ahsoka had been sure she’d almost smiled once again.

 

Once their feet had hit the frosted, compact earth, it was very difficult not to break into a run, especially with Master Plo’s proximity an ever-fainter-growing compass in her head, but tendrils of fog were swirling around them and she could very easily have moved out of Billaba’s sight. She forced herself to walk, conscious of Billaba’s neat-constant nervous glances into their surroundings. There wasn’t much to _see_ of them, really, but her montrals came in handy, informing her of object, density and distance with as much ease as a scanner.

“There’s a metal structure over there,” she said quietly, indicating the indirection, and Billaba nodded.

“Do have have a guess as to what it is?”

An alarm bellowed distantly, and Billaba grabbed the neck of Ahsoka’s cloak and forced her to the ground, shining red ballistic bolts flash-blinding them as they flew past where their heads had been only a few seconds earlier, impacting on the ground. Her voice came out irritatingly high-pitched when she said, breathing hard, “yep – I’d say guard turret.” She rolled out from under her, fumbling in her pockets, pulled out a droid popper and rolled it.

There was the crackle of blue lightning, then nothing – the alarm had stopped.

“Do you suppose it got the launchers, too?” asked Billaba, who was looking faintly pale, Ahsoka could see as her vision cleared.

“Only one way to find out!”

“Padawan, NO-”

 

Ahsoka, grinning, extended her a hand up. “No offence, Master, but I’m not _quite_ that stupid – I already heard the pulse finish.”

Billaba released her hand, almost a little sulkily, and dusted herself off. “Was it really that funny?” she asked grimly, and Ahsoka grinned again, baring her sharp teeth.

“Hey, gotta find fun somewhere!”

“There are other places to pick,” she muttered under her breath, and Ahsoka frowned, shivering slightly – her clothes had gotten wet patches from the ground, and the breeze was picking up.

“Would you say any of them are better, Master?” Some kind of tired grief spasmed over Billaba’s face before she answered, squeezing Ahsoka’s shoulder gently.

“I suppose not. I stand corrected.”

Ahsoka grabbed her hand just as she removed it, briefly enfolding the older woman’s cold, brown hands in her warmer, orange ones. “No problem. Standing corrected is better than sitting right to begin with, anyway.”

This time, she actually did smile, suddenly looking a lot younger.

“I don’t know exactly what that means, but I’d be honoured to have you teach me – later. For now, let’s go and find our Masters.”

"Let’s,” said Ahsoka, closing her eyes, and they both reached out into the Force.

Billaba found them first. “About five metres underground, due North-West.”

Ahsoka opened her eyes with a snap, dropping into a crouch like she was about to begin a stalk. “I’ve got them too!”

Depa watched, half-fascinated, as the girl loped off in a low jog, head down almost to the ground as is tracking a scent, then she picked up her own pace. She wasn’t about to tell Ahsoka, but she had the sudden thought that if anyone in the Order could escape this place, it might well be Skywalker’s skilled, resourceful, plucky Padawan. And, she realised, out of anyone in the Order, Tano also happened to be the one she might most _wish_ to escape.

Damnit, why did she have to get fond of the child in the middle of a suicide mission her bonds had gotten them into?

No, their bonds.

She knew any mission failure would on be her soul and conscience alone, but it did Ahsoka a disservice to suggest that hadn’t been her choice to come.

She wanted to save Plo, and _Ancestors_ , she understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, It's been a while!  
> .....by a while I mean half a year. I'm so sorry.  
> Also, yup, that was indeed a nod to Ahsoka outliving every single other Jedi at the order during that timeframe.


End file.
